Mr Owl
by sakura-charmed
Summary: Little Sarah befriends a rather peculiar owl and receives the book which changed her life. Pre-labyrinth


Disclaimer: Labyrinth is not mine.

This is my first Labyrinth fanfic. I know it's different from what I used to write, but please give it a shot. I hope you like it!

* * *

The park was unusually silent on that afternoon.

It seemed as if everything was holding their breath. The swans glided noiselessly, gracefully dancing their ballet on water. The birds forgone their daily serenade to God for the fine day; instead they passed by silently. Even the wind refused to whistle. The only one who wasn't perturbed by it was a barn owl perched nonchalantly on a slab of stone. He reveled in the quietude – it was an occurrence he rarely encountered from where he lived.

The jarring tranquility was broken by a little girl, running blindly and throwing herself under the shade of an old oak tree. There she unleashed the distress she had been so desperate to quell earlier. Tears slipped soundlessly from her closed eyes, her breath hitching once in a while. No one was there – no one would scold her or tease her for being such a crybaby. She was utterly alone. Or so she thought. She didn't notice the owl regarding her curiously.

A gentle wind ruffled the girl's ebony locks comfortingly, but she did not look up. If it were up to her, she'd rather stay there, in the circle of her own embrace, and be oblivious to the ravages of the world she rarely understood and knew too little of.

Her mummy and daddy were fighting again. She didn't like it when they do that. Their voices were too loud. The big words they shouted were not in the dictionary or in her fairytale books. A lot of things get broken, too. She missed the little porcelain fox which once guarded the door to her room. Its remains now settled at the bottom of the trashcan in the kitchen, forgotten by everyone except her. It had been such a brave fox.

Unfortunately, in their fight earlier, she had been in the wrong place and got caught in the crossfire. She could still picture the big hardbound book sailing through the air towards her. She was pretty sure she had read the title _Treatise on Jurisprudence _emblazoned proudly upon its cover. No other book felt heavier or looked thicker than the tomes about law. She was a living testament to that.

But if either of her parents had noticed that a particularly intimidating compendium felled their daughter, they probably did not care too much. The yelling didn't decrease its decibel. Nor did the heavy but 'throwable' objects stay stationary for too long either. They were busy defying the laws of gravity by being constantly airborne. So she did the only thing she was able to do: escape to the little park near her home.

Running her tongue over a split lower lip, she winced. Her cheek was smarting, too. She remembered Trudy from kindergarten that had mumps. Would her cheek swell to that size? Will she be excused from classes, and away from her classmates' hostility?

It was in times like these that she felt so utterly alone. Little Sarah didn't have friends in school. Being an unusually precocious child, she had skipped two grades, thus forfeiting her chance to mold lifetime friendships. No one wanted to befriend the 'freak' who was too special to go through all grades like a normal student. If they did, they probably have homework not done.

Sarah's situation at home wasn't much better. Her parents barely had time for her. Beautiful, ethereal Linda Williams was an actress, preoccupied with plays, interviews and looking good for fans while her husband, Robert Williams was buried in 'lawyer-work.' The little free time they had was wasted in arguing.

The little girl wondered when it had gone bad. They used to be happy before. Maybe it happened when her parents had a particular conversation a long time ago. Daddy had commented that Mummy was _seeing _that roguish performer and she retorted something about a prudish accountant.

Sarah had wondered what was wrong about 'seeing' someone. Everybody did it everyday, right? She sees her parents at the table when she comes down for breakfast. She sees the newspaper boy on his bicycle distributing the daily broadsheet, the people at school, and on the street. Why were her parents mad about it? It was possibly an adult thing, and the moment she asked about it, the grown-ups would smile mysteriously, and will say "When you get older, we'll tell you." Their condescending tone always annoys her.

A low, mournful hoot shook her out of her melancholy thoughts. Reluctantly, she raised her head, cloudy, verdant green eyes seeking the source of the sound.

Perched near her, was the most majestic and handsome owl she had ever seen.

Long, powerful wings were embellished with light russet feathers tinged with streaks of gold and yellow. Its plumage was immaculately clear, reminding her of the first flakes of snowfall. The owl supported itself on a pair of deadly-looking talons, which she eyed warily. When he did not make any move to attack, she relaxed slightly. What mesmerized her was the pair of eyes staring out of the heart-shaped face: they were mismatched, the blue orb's pupil a little larger than its brown counterpart.

Something very regal about the avian predator made her feel irrelevant; like the insecure child she was. Pushing back her nigrescent curls, she wiped her tear stained face across her sleeve, wanting some semblance of dignity before such grandiosity. She sat up and looked down at her dress. What used to be a pristinely white frock now had mud tracks on the front. She loved that dress – it makes her feel like a princess whenever she wore it.

Returning her attention to her companion, she saw that he hadn't moved, locking his eyes to hers, puzzlement in their depths. Her lonely heart cried out for him; he was a kindred spirit, she knew, and he was as lonely as she.

Clearing her throat, she hesitated. Years of keeping silence while her parents argued and when her classmates taunted had almost made her forget how to start a conversation. She spoke when spoken to and only if it was really necessary. Although when she answered, she often gave one-word replies which put off her listeners. That was fine by her.

Sarah prefers not to be seen, not to be heard; she prefers to listen, not to speak. In her opinion, people would notice her less this way and avoid being the subject of jokes and speculations. She would rather be an insignificant piece of scenery in the background than be the star of the show.

This behavior worried her parents. They even decided on an armistice one time and brought her to a child psychiatrist who only smiled, shook his head, and said: "Sarah is undergoing a stage of introversion which will lessen when exposed to interactions with children of her age."

Oh she was exposed to interactions all right. If only he knew how negatively, he would not have suggested it. If he knew that the 'children of her age' were calling her deaf and stupid behind her back, the idea would never occur to him. The grown-ups do not completely understand a child's world; it seemed that they never will, in spite being children themselves once upon a time, thus will make any of their attempts to coax Sarah out of her shell fail. Her parents gave up quickly afterwards, convincing themselves that she would grow out of it on her own.

But there was nothing wrong about starting a one-sided conversation with an owl, right? Nobody was around. At best, the animal would stay there and she can pretend that the owl was listening to her. The worst case scenario would be it would fly away and never will she see it again – or maybe it would attack. In any case, it's not as if the owl could use whatever she will say against her.

The owl was looking at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to say something. She gave him an apologetic smile for making him wait.

"Um – Hello, Mr. Owl. My name's Sarah," she said shyly. When it did not fly away or attack as she anticipated, her smile got wider and she continued on bravely. "Will you be my friend?"

Sarah stared in fascination as his eyes widened in surprise. She must have imagined it, for it was gone as soon as she saw it. Had he understood her? It was too good to be true.

When the owl did not answer, she clapped her hands in delight. Silence means yes, she decided, deliberately ignoring the fact that owls cannot speak in the first place.

Problems forgotten for the moment, she replied.

"Oh! I'm so glad! I am much obliged to make your ac-acqui'ntance, Mr. Owl," her chest puffed up with pride for the big words she used, and her lone companion was staring at her bemusedly.

Her smile shrank, and the owl got an impression of a balloon deflated by a proverbial needle. The girl's unpredictable swings of emotion both amused and puzzled him.

"Although I don't know what friends do, Mr. Owl. I've never had one before."

Never had friends? The owl frowned inwardly. How someone of her sweet and innocent nature could be deprived of friendship was beyond him. Humans were becoming dimmer these days.

Sarah may be extraordinarily smart for her own age, but she may have overlooked certain facts in light of a proffered camaraderie. She must have forgotten that owls were rarely seen during daytime – they were nocturnal. And more importantly, wild animals never stay near humans. The owl's peculiar disposition did not bother her – for the naive little girl, it was just a lonely creature seeking company.

Girl met owl in the eye solemnly, neither wanting to break the easy silence between them. Not a hoot or a word was spoken. Then suddenly…

"Wanna play fetch?"

Sarah never knew that owls could huff in indignation, but she had proof now. She laughed as he gave her an exasperated look, which clearly said that "I am an OWL, not a DOG."

"Well, it was a good idea," she defended, shrugging. Playing fetch seems like fun. "I wish I had a dog. And you know what, Mr. Owl? If I had one, I would name him Merlin. Like the wizard."

Indeed, Sarah wanted one. Sadly, her parents were too busy to accompany her to the pet shop. She hadn't asked, for she knew the answer. They wouldn't approve.

Her stomach grumbled in hunger. She laughed, seeing the owl tilt his head quizzically, as if asking, "Have you not eaten?"

"No, I have not, Mr. Owl," she confirmed, searching through the pockets of her voluminous robes. Finding what she was looking for, she took it out triumphantly and held it in the palm of her hand for the owl to see.

It was a peach.

"Peaches are my favorite fruit, Mr. Owl. Do you want some?" she asked, offering him before taking a bite herself. When he seemingly declined with a shake of his head, she continued. "I used to like apples, but after reading Snow White, I'm afraid that I lost my liking for them."

Finishing the fruit with six, large bites, she threw its core at the stream, sending ripples through its surface. The owl and she watched its progress as it followed the flow of the water, before disappearing from view.

"Though all turned out in the end for Snow White, didn't it?" she asked quietly. The owl swiveled in her direction. "While it never will, for me. Such a pity, isn't it?"

She leaned on the tree trunk and closed her eyes, longing for things to work out in the end. She had been so sure before, that someday, she would be able to read the 'and they lived happily ever after' in her storybook of a life. Boy, life certainly gave her a rude awakening. She felt that her childlike belief of happy endings was slowly eroding through the passing of dismal years.

Opening her eyes, she nearly jumped. The owl was closer to her, albeit she did not hear it move. His intense gaze was directed at her swollen cheek. She smiled and touched it gingerly, flattered by his apparent concern.

"It's all right. Mummy and Daddy were fighting again. Let me warn you, Mr. Owl. Never be in the landing area of a flying book, espec'ally if it's about law. Those ones are really thick and heavy," she informed him. Nevertheless, the fierce look in his eyes did not falter. "It's okay really. It happened before. The only difference is that it was not the same book."

If she had hoped to reassure the owl, it was the wrong thing to say. He glared at the offending injury, willing it to heal with the power of his stare. Sarah may have imagined it, but it did feel a trifle better afterwards. His frown never wavered.

"It's not fair," she told him, uncomfortable with the look in his eyes. "But life is never fair, isn't it? That's the way it is. Let us drop it, Mr. Owl. I have no idea if friends talk about melanch'ly things on the first day they meet."

The owl reluctantly dropped his rigid posture and the turbulence in his eyes settled once more. Sarah likened him to a calm before a storm, ready to strike at any given moment. She was close enough to see the subtle rise and fall of his chest, and how the light was reflected in his eyes as flecks of gold. Not for the first time, she marveled at his sheer beauty.

"Can I touch you?" she asked shyly.

Holding out a hand, she let it descend lightly on his head. She tested his reaction to her caress, afraid if he planned to attack. But he only closed his eyes in satisfaction, and gave a low hoot of approval. She grinned happily.

"You are so beautiful, do you know that?"

The owl's eyes opened for a fraction, giving a smug look of "Of course I know" and preened at her praise, making her laugh. Sarah never knew that owls could look haughty.

"And very vain, don't forget that"

The owl gave her a mock-hurt look, before closing his eyes, allowing her ministrations to continue.

A comfortable silence passed, which Sarah once again broke with a question that was bothering her for a while.

"Mr. Owl, I dream of a most wonderful world. It had many twists and turns, and many fantastical creatures lived there. It looked dark and foreboding, but the inside was a haven for everyone who just had to say the right words. They also welcome"-she paused-"unwanted children. Do you know of such a place, Mr. Owl?"

The owl gave her a sharp look, and she feared that she had said something wrong.

"I was just wondering, Mr. Owl," she whispered sadly. "Mummy and Daddy are mad, and I can't help but think that it's my entire fault. They don't want me anymore. They don't realize that I hear the hurtful words they say. But maybe, maybe without me being a burden to them, they can learn to love each other again. But maybe, maybe without me being a burden to them, they can learn to love each other again. I just wish I knew how to get away from this awful place."

The owl was still staring at her inscrutably, and she got the impression that she was being examined minutely. Those mismatched eyes were peering at her soul, and unraveling her every secret sorrow. And then it hopped away.

For a fleeting second, she was saddened to see that it was going to leave without saying goodbye. Her fears were unfounded for it stopped, looked at her as if to say "Follow me."

Chalking it up as merely a highly intelligent animal behavior, she stood up and stretched her sore limbs. She saw nothing wrong with followed the owl; he was her friend after all. And friends are supposed to trust each other. Catching sight of her newfound companion pausing near a tree deeper into the woods, she ran unhesitatingly to him.

"What have you got there, Mr. Owl?"

Its attention was not focused on her, but on something at the foot of the trunk. He hooted to say, "Go look."

Lying there innocently amidst the thistles and brambles was a small, red, leatherbound book. Curiously, she sank to her knees.

The book has obviously been there for a long time, for earth and leaves caked the worn cover. Its dog-eared pages were frayed and damp from being outdoors. She brushed the dirt off, surprised by its soft texture. Something about the book captivated her attention, holding her spellbound. Magic. It was magic.

"The Labyrinth," she read aloud. Absentmindedly wiping it, she flipped it open to the first page. "I've never read this story before, Mr. Owl."

Lying down on her stomach, she propped her chin in one hand and cradled the book in another. Sarah began to read.

The owl observed the little girl perusing the book avidly. He wondered what she thought about his labyrinth. He was fascinated by how her eyes would change color to suit her mood. They were a lively forest green when she was happy; gray and colorless when she was sad. Blazing emerald orbs meant that she was mad. That was the time he realized that her eyes could be so…cruel.

Sarah, meanwhile, was in her element. Quite forgetting about her companion, she had entered her own fantasy world. She was saddened by the princess who wished her brother away to the goblins, sympathized with her when she realized her mistake, scared for her when she struck a deal with the King of the Goblins, and accompanied her on her journey throughout the labyrinth. She was overjoyed for the princess who had gathered loyal friends along the way, and who won her younger brother in the end. She finished the book with mixed feelings.

The book was relatively short, and by the time she finished it, the sun had barely moved from its position in the sky. She looked up and was surprised to see that her friend was still there. She thought that he would become bored and leave.

"The story was…quite different, Mr. Owl," she informed him, meeting his eyes confusedly. A million questions were running through her mind. "I've never read anything like it."

"The Goblin King offered her dreams," she said, assuming that he knew the story. It was he who led her to the book it the first place. "Was he sincere, Mr. Owl? Or only trying to distract her from getting her brother?"

The owl only stared at her.

"He lives in a castle, with only the goblins for company," she said, tenderly smoothing out the pages. "He must be really lonely."

If she wasn't so deeply concentrated on her task, she would've seen the owl fidget. She was closer to the truth more than she knew.

She sat up suddenly and peered at him, another thought occurring to her.

"It's true, isn't it?" she asked breathlessly. "The labyrinth, the goblins, and their king. They are real, aren't they?"

The owl continued to gaze at her, and she grinned broadly. Sarah hasn't given up on the 'Silence means yes' saying.

"Do you think that they will take me away, Mr. Owl?" her eyes lit up at her suggestion. "No one will run the labyrinth for me, and I would be gone here forever. It's what my parents would've wanted. "

Remembering her parents wiped the silly grin off her face. She knew that it was a long time since she ran away. They hadn't even bothered to look for her, which reinforced her bright idea.

"Do you think that the Goblin King won't turn me into a goblin if I ask nicely? I'm rather fond of being a little girl. Maybe he'll let me be the cook. I don't mind. Do you know that I can cook my own meals now, Mr. Owl? Mummy doesn't have the time. Or maybe he'll let me be the scullery maid! I can clean my own room. It's okay if I have to sleep in front of the fireplace. I'll be like Cinderella!"

Pausing to catch her breath, she continued. "I don't think that he turns every unwanted child into goblins, Mr. Owl. Only the naughty ones. He's got plenty of them, right? Maybe I can be friends with the other children, because they know how being unwanted feels like."

The owl never thought that he would be this fond for a human, but he was now. _Just say the right words, little girl. And you shall be a princess, not just in your name. Everyone will love you, and never will you feel unwanted again._

"I wish…"

A thousand images assaulted her at once: she and her parents laughing heartily while watching cartoons…her mother planting a big kiss on the boo-boo on her knee…her father, teaching her how to ride a bicycle…and the happy times they once shared. Sarah hesitated and her voice faltered.

"I can't do it," she said shamefacedly. "I can't help but think that one day - someday, all would be better again. I still love them so very much. Does refusing my dreams make me a coward?"

Was that disappointment in the owl's eyes?

"I'm sorry, Mr. Owl," she apologized, wondering why she was asking for his pardon. It seems right, for he gave her the book. "Can I keep it? Maybe I'll change my mind in the future."

The owl gave a depressed hoot. Why would she turn back when she was so near?

Sarah approached him cautiously.

"You've been such a nice friend, Mr. Owl," she said seriously, doing her best grown-up voice. "You comforted me, and gave me a book. But there is something you've given me that I value most of all."

Her friend cocked his head questioningly, even though sadness was still lurking beneath those beautiful, mismatched eyes.

"Hope," she said, smiling, and the owl felt much better when he saw the love shining in her eyes. Love for _him. _"Goodbye, Mr. Owl."

She stood up, pocketing the Labyrinth book, and made her way towards home. Remembering something, she turned to look back.

"I wish I would see you again, Mr. Owl," she said sincerely and walked away, a spring in her step, for she felt infinitely better. Whenever life got too tedious for her, there was always an imagination to call to.

* * *

The owl was staring speculatively at nothing, the little girl long since gone from the park. All was silent once again.

_I wish I would see you again, Mr. Owl... _

In the span of a few minutes, he had grown fond of the bright-eyed little girl who saw the good in everyone and everything. She was even nice to him. There were no doubts that she would make a fine princess for his kingdom.

Plans had to be made. He knew that the fox who guarded the Bog of Eternal Stench had a dog who recently gave birth. Perhaps the fox would spare him one pup if he gave him a reward. A knighthood, maybe?

And his little princess needed some guards. Some goblins stationed in the closets will do. He was sure that they were smart enough to keep Sarah away from flying books and bullies. He had to make sure to threaten them with the bog, though. Just in case.

There was an antique toy shop nearby. She went there frequently, and it wouldn't take much trouble to plant some toys which would remind her of the Labyrinth.

The owl smiled inwardly in satisfaction. So many plans, so little time.

_Soon, my little princess. Soon._

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What do you think? Please review!

If you have time, please check out my story _Misguided Preconceptions_ at Fictionpress. Poor thing doesn't have reviews. I would really appreciate what you have to say.

Thank you for reading!


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